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Another shot of guilt hit. Of all weekends for a mistaken double booking. The boat festival brought with it truckloads of tourists. Live music, parades, open-air markets—the works. This was arguably the biggest week of the summer for our little town. In truth, I liked being here most during the quieter lulls or just hanging out on the lake.
She whipped around. “What do I do if I can’t find a place to stay?” Panic laced her tone after what appeared to be a fruitless reservation search. “No, I can answer that. I suppose I’ll drive back downstate. Or I could stay somewhere else in some other town.”
Her shoulders slumped. I wasn’t sure where she lived now, but if she still lived near our parents, she’d already driven at least four hours today. She was probably exhausted.
“I’ve got three bedrooms,” I ventured. “One doesn’t have a bed at the moment—ripping off old wallpaper and the room’s a mess. But there’s two others.”
Her face communicated I should stop, drop, and die. “You’re offering me a room at your house?”
“It’s got one fully functional bathroom while the other is being rehabbed, but yeah. Great lake view. Good price.” She wasn’t laughing. “The price would be free.”
“The price is definitely not free. I assume you’ll be staying there too?”
“Yeah, that’s kind of the deal. I’m living there while I do the rehab.”
Voices carried over from the guys on the lawn. They were heading to the back of the house to check out the lake. Which left us alone.
“I can’t stay with you,” she said.
“Can’t or won’t?”
It was as if her current glare challenged the last glare to which could be most deadly. “I refuse.”
That left her the option to leave town and find a hotel farther south. An option I found I very much did not want her to do. “Look, Jillian, I owe you. And before you tell me exactly why I owe you, I want you to know I know what I did was unfair. Not the reservation mistake, but you know, the…stuff between us.”
“Stuff? That’s what you’re calling leaving and not talking to me for a decade?”
Man, was I blowing it. “How about we view this as an olive branch of sorts? The least I can do is give you a place to stay. Even if you still hate my guts.” She could probably describe her hate of my guts in detailed, scientific terms.
She looked past me toward the house. “I don’t hate you.”
Her voice grew quiet on the last words. I could be kidding myself, but I thought I heard a hint of hope in there. Not what she said, but how she said it. Shades of…regret? Maybe I was reading into it.
Seeing her here, suddenly in this space that used to be ours, brought a rush of memories. She belonged here.
“It’ll be dark soon.” We had a few more hours, but I went with it. “At least let me put you up for the night. Helping you would be one way to show you how sorry I am.”
She looked at her phone again, swiping and tapping at the screen. She huffed and slid the phone into her back pocket. “This is a stupid idea.”
I couldn’t help but grin. “Want to pull around in the other drive? I’ll help you with your bags.”
3
Jillian
Agreeing to stay at Adam’s house was the stupidest thing I’d done in a long time. And I’d once dated a cruise ship DJ. Even neuroscientists had lapses in judgment.
Worse, dating that DJ hadn’t even netted me a discount on a cruise. We’d dated when he was off-ship while he crashed in his parents’ basement. A few weeks later, he’d jetted back to the Caribbean with his stash of house music and glow sticks, leaving nothing but a blocked phone number in his wake.
Adrenaline laced with dread coursed through me as I got back in my car. I didn’t know what to expect from my defunct girls’ weekend now that my plans had been completely trashed. I thrived on plans. Plan B or C or even D had not included following my high school ex-boyfriend down a shady tree-lined driveway to his private lake house. At least he hadn’t asked for a ride.
I turned the ignition and the weirdest thing happened. The weird thing was nothing happened.
I tried again. The dash flicked on, but the car remained far too quiet. It should have been making all those familiar engine starting noises I’d apparently taken for granted.
Sweat beaded at the underside of my hair. If my car wouldn’t start, I’d actually be stuck here. No, think. I had roadside assistance. I’d just call—
A knock came at my window. At least this time the shock had dulled at seeing my ex standing on the other side.
